


If Not Cursed, Certainly Supernaturally Unsightly

by BlackEyedGirl



Category: White Collar
Genre: Community: comment_fic, Domestic, Established Relationship, Ficlet, Multi, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-01
Updated: 2010-06-01
Packaged: 2017-10-09 21:00:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/91579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackEyedGirl/pseuds/BlackEyedGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm telling you that lamp is cursed." Neal is convinced that the hideous addition to their decor is causing the run of domestic disharmony.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If Not Cursed, Certainly Supernaturally Unsightly

**Author's Note:**

> For a prompt at LJ comm Comment_fic for the supernatural theme: "I'm telling you that lamp is cursed." (Decisions on the presence of actual supernatural elements are entirely up to the reader)

"The lamp is not cursed, Neal. You just don't like it."

Neal takes a break from watching the thing with his wide blue eyes to glare at Peter. "I don't like it. It doesn't match with anything in this room."

"My mother gave it to us. It's an antique - she sent it for El's birthday and she went to a lot of trouble. It stays."

"I'm not saying it's cursed _because_ of its appalling looks. I'm just saying it's cursed. Your mother doesn't like me."

Peter thinks about this for a moment. "My mother doesn't _especially_ like you, that's true. But she doesn't know you practically live here, so it would be an odd way to get back at you. Also, there's no such thing as curses."

El pushes her laptop across the coffee table with a growl. She shuffles another piece of paper in front of her and starts scribbling on it. "Guys, I don't have time for this right now. Can you go be somewhere else?"

Neal gets up, giving the lamp another baleful look. He whispers in Peter's ear, "It made your wife mad at us."

Peter follows Neal out of the door and whispers back, "_You_ made my wife mad at us."

*

In the course of the day, Peter spills coffee over Jones's case reports, Neal manages to fire a rubber glove across the bullpen and hit Hughes, and somehow they have both contrived to piss Diana off so badly that she volunteers herself for stake-out to get away from them. It's possible she's been talking to his wife.

Then Peter loses his car keys just as they're trying to go home. They spend twenty minutes looking around the office and then Neal announces, "I have your spare set."

"Now, why do you have-? Neal, tell me you didn't lift the originals so I would buy into your ridiculous theory with…?"

Neal actually has the gall to look offended. He pulls out the keys – not the originals – and makes a face. He tosses the spare set at Peter and manages to hit his chin instead of anywhere a normal person might throw. "Neal!"

"Peter, for God's sake I wasn't trying to-."

"Stop. Just stop."

They make the drive home in uneasy silence.

 

*

El isn't back yet. She's been working on this benefit reception for weeks now and it has her under stress. Peter decides to make a start on dinner. Pasta is something he can't screw up too badly.

Neal has curled himself up on the couch with a book that better be second-hand and not as valuable as it looks.

Peter walks to the door. "Neal. Can you give me a hand in here or are you too busy with your- what's that smell?"

Neal, who had been looking increasingly like he was about to start an argument, looks past Peter in shock. "Peter."

Peter curses and runs back into the kitchen to put out the small fire. And stick the melting plastic in the sink where it can't do any more harm – how the hell did that fall onto the stove?

He starts to run cold water and assess the damage. There is an unhappy creaking sound and suddenly there are pots raining down on him from the broken shelf. So that's where the plastic fell from. A pot hits his wrist and the jolt of pain runs up to his elbow. Peter cries out and hears Neal calling his name.

"Peter, are you-?" An almighty crash.

In the other room, Neal is backing away hurriedly from the broken lamp.

"Peter," he says, "I swear, I swear it wasn't on purpose. I just got up to see about the burning and then you got hurt and- it is cursed. I'm not- seriously, Peter, it's-."

"I'm starting to think you could be right."

Neal blinks. He looks a little less panicked now he knows Peter won't yell at him about the breakage. "What should we do? Salt the pieces and burn the remains?"

Peter has to stare at him. "Pretty sure that's ghosts. And no more CW for you."

There's a noise at the door, and then Elizabeth is standing in it, looking at the two of them.

"El, there was this-." "Elizabeth, I'm sorry but-."

She starts laughing. "I leave you alone in the house for thirty minutes."

Neal gets in faster than Peter. "The lamp was cursed."

"The lamp was not cursed," El says.

Peter reluctantly concurs with Neal and recites the list of today's catastrophes.

El laughs some more. "Just to be clear, I think it's adorable that you two grown men have decided to blame the supernatural for your problems. I really do. But I was… _frustrated_ this morning because my supplier changed her prices on me. You spilled coffee on Jones because you can be kind of a klutz, sweetie, I'm sorry. Especially when you don't eat breakfast because you're having a thing with Neal. Neal, I don't know what you were doing with the gloves but there's a reason we tell kids that they'll put someone's eye out. Peter, your car keys are in Jones's photocopying, don't ask me why. Diana is mad at the pair of you because you didn't R.S.V.P to her wedding anniversary party. She's making up for being out of town when it happened."

"What about-?" Peter begins.

"The kitchen? Honey. Let's not."

"I don't remember getting an invite to Diana's party," Neal points out.

"It's been in your jacket pocket since last night, you haven't opened it."

"I was going to open the envelope when we got back here last night but then-."

El puts her hands on her hips. "Neal Caffrey, if you even _think_ about calling what the three of us did on the couch last night 'unlucky' I will-."

Neal blanches. "No. Absolutely not. No. But, Elizabeth, you have to admit-."

"I know, baby," she agrees. "It was a really ugly lamp. If it makes you feel better, you can toss salt over it when you and Peter deal with the mess and take it out to the trash. Meanwhile, I'm ordering take-out. If all of this is cleaned up before the food arrives, and someone finds a nice bottle of wine, I may consider allowing one or both of you to make a 'getting lucky' pun in bed tonight."

She turns to go upstairs. Peter coughs. "El. Do you have- do you have _paint_ on the back of your dress?"

She doesn't look around, continuing up the stairs. "I don't want to talk about it! Clean up."

Neal sweeps up the broken pieces of lamp and Peter cleans up in the kitchen. When Neal carefully throws cooking salt in the trash after the mess, Peter carefully doesn't say a word.


End file.
